I found masks in all of my coat pockets today

like forgotten dog treats from my deceased Golden Retriever. No one’s wearing them anymore. Well on their face anyway. They wear them on their wrists, as intentionless as a 1:00am text from a would-be lover. The Korean nail techs wear them but the sun-damaged Malibu moms don’t. Killing time until my appointment I walk around the outdoor mall. I pass the cannabis store and the wafting weed reminds me of the smell of my sister’s high school tapestry shirts. On every corner is a Starbucks and a real estate office with some obscure name - as forgettable as an off brand at TJMaxx. They know they are not making a claim - they are The Rainmakers and will pick up stakes as soon as the last Trufallo tree has been yanked out of the ground. At least Starbucks pretends to care with their promise of a college education and a “Save the rain forest t-shirt.” My dark plum gel manicure is done - should last about 3 weeks - and that's a long time these days.